


You're on my heart just like a tattoo

by DrJackAndMissJo



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Bending (Avatar TV), Domestic, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Tattoo Artist!Sokka, Tecnically, oh my god they were roommates, they were roommates, writer!Zuko
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-13 01:00:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28769739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrJackAndMissJo/pseuds/DrJackAndMissJo
Summary: Based on a prompt for the Zukka +18 Chaos Server Exchange!***“You know what would get my dead beat father rolling in the grave? (...) A fucking tattoo!”
Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 116
Collections: Zukka 18+ Chaos Server: Jan 2021 Exchange





	You're on my heart just like a tattoo

**Author's Note:**

  * For [raininginthestreets](https://archiveofourown.org/users/raininginthestreets/gifts).



> The original prompt was: Tattoo Artist Sokka or Zuko, and I went with the first  
> Sorry for the delay, it was supposed to come out on time but university  
> Hope you enjoy it, JayD!

“You know what would get my dead beat father rolling in the grave?”

Sokka looked up from the computer screen that was placed on his lap to watch his roommate enter their shared apartment, balancing three bags on his left arm as he kicked his shoes off and hanged the keys up on their place. His voice had been slightly muffled by the mask he was still wearing and, knowing Zuko, that would remain on his face until he was fully disinfected and clean from the trip to the supermarket.

“Zuko, the list of things that would get him rolling is the size of Ba Sing Se,” Sokka supplied as he got up from the comfortable couch to help put the groceries away while the other boy went to wash his hands.

They had both been methodical in their isolation pod since day one: stocking up on everything they could find, without hoarding toilet paper like some monsters did; putting a timer next to every sink that read the minimum of 20 seconds that were recommended by the CDC; buying masks and plastic gloves and always making sure they had spare cleaning supplies.

For the first few months, when everything was closed and everyone was panicking, they tried to maintain the calm as best as they could, even when they were both locked in with nobody else around and when they stayed up all night losing their grasp on the real world while they worked on their respective projects, since day-job was an old and obsolete term.

To be fair, lockdown had gotten both their creative juices, as well as cactus juice, running freely, with Sokka finishing three paintings in the span of two weeks and managing to sell them online through his shop for a decent price, and with Zuko finishing up on the third and final draft of his novel.

Still, when things started to reopen even when the waters looked tough and rough, but they took it all in stride, never losing their grip on reality and sanity, going to work each morning with a brave attitude, hoping they wouldn’t catch anything.

Zuko going back to work, Sokka could understand way better, he was a barista after all. People needed their coffees and teas. But for him? Who the fuck needed to get a tattoo in the middle of a pandemic?  
Turns out many people.

At least they wore their masks and washed their hands, Sokka had thought after one too many horror stories from his best friend’s day dealing with Karens who wanted their ‘ _chai tea’_ tea, as if chai didn’t already mean tea.

And Sokka was thankful that he had been locked down with Zuko as his only source of socialisation. They had been roommates since college and therefore were already used to closed quarters and proximity, which made the quarantining so much better. They already knew what each other could and would eat, takeout menus were already memorised and they also knew with movie or show to binge or start together. Besides, Zuko was the most organised person he knew and was the only one who could make him get off his lazy ass whenever he slouched around.

The only problem, when quarantining with his best friend roommate who he secretly had a crush for, was just that: his being totally in love with the dork who sang songs from various musicals at every single hour of the day and night, who had slowly but surely turned their apartment into a jungle filled with succulents and cacti over the course of their living together, who had the highest spice tolerance in the entire world but somehow couldn’t stand crunchy peanut butter.

But Sokka had years of keeping his emotions hidden, trying his best to not fuck up their friendship, so a few months with only each other as company wouldn’t have hurt.

He was very thankful they hadn’t.

“True, but try anyway,” Zuko requested as he finally took off his black mask, hanging it as well next to his keys.

Sokka had meant his initial comment more as an exaggeration than anything, but he had been right: the list of things that would get the former Republican senator Ozai Sozin rolling down in the fiery pits of Hell where he would spend the rest of eternity grilled like a marshmallow was long. And Zuko already tried his best to cross each item he could on the daily.

He was not straight, he voted and campaigned blue whenever the air of elections came around and he had already had the first shot of the COVID vaccine as soon as he could. That poor excuse for a sperm donor was already rolling over the dirt and he could stay mad about it.

It wasn’t hard to think of something that would piss him off even from beyond the grave, but Sokka couldn’t come up with a single answer for Zuko, not without narrowing down the topic or the motivation for such question first.

“Why are we talking about that former waste of good oxygen?”

Zuko shrugged, flopping down on the couch and taking his hair out of the bun that sat neatly at the nape of his neck, slightly messed by the wind. “Cause I saw one of his old campaign posters on Facebook today while I was helping Uncle Iroh and I wanna make him suffer some more.”

Sokka’s hands itched to run through the black strands, but he managed to keep them to his side as he followed his best friend, seating cross-legged and facing him.

“Guess?” Zuko asked again, childishly pushing him with his shoulder  
“I don’t know! Skinny dipping? Posting his nudes online? Having an Only Fans?”

Again, the list was long. The man was usually angry at the world, or at Zuko, so something like seeing his son wear an apron while working at Iroh’s tea house as he worked on becoming a published author instead of following in his footsteps like a good soldier would be enough.

Apparently, for Zuko, enough was never enough.

He got a gleam in his eyes that meant trouble, usually, and fun, most definitely. And Sokka was gone, had been from the first moment he had seen the other boy, standing awkwardly in their new shiny room as Sokka went for a hug instead of the handshake Zuko was about to give him.

Sokka had thought that his new roommate was hot but a complete turtle-duck, and the sentiment only strengthened ever since. He was hot, dorky _and_ a turtle-duck, a complete triple threat to Sokka’s poor heart.

“Close, but no dice,” he said, leaning forward conspiratorially even though they were the only one hearing. “A fucking tattoo.”

Sokka was taken aback, too shocked to even laugh as he tried to process the words. Out of all the possible things that would have definitely made Ozai Sozin, rotten politician who had died because he didn’t trust science, rolling over in his grave, was it something so doable yet that he and Zuko never really thought about?

Toph was right. They were dunderheads.

“Wait what? Really?” he asked in complete disbelief as Zuko laughed himself silly at his reaction.

“Yeah, he was so against them it’s hilarious,” Zuko managed once he caught back his breathing, lying comfortably and fully relaxed on the couch, without a single care in the world, “and it’s crazy that I haven’t thought about it sooner!”.

His change of moods had been clear as day, in the past few months: before Ozai’s too late passing, he was still open and free, but his terrible father’s shadow loomed over him; every day he would be reminded of the fact that that piece of shit wasted everybody’s oxygen, whether through social media or interviews; then he had caught the virus and had gotten six feet under, and Zuko began to breathe easier, to get out the spring colours, as to say, especially after a spectacular funeral that did not respect the government mandated regulation and follow social distancing for those who were actually there for Ozai, where Zuko, Azula and Iroh had shown up dressed head to toe in rainbow, sprinkling glitter all over the casket and had it lowered to the tune of _‘It’s raining men’_.

And really, who could have denied the grieving children of the recently deceased politician that, in their terrible grief?

Anyway, without the threat of his shithead father fucking the world up, both Zuko and Azula seemed to thrive even more so than usual, despite the global pandemic around them all.

“In your defence, you haven’t thought about it sooner cause you’re terrified of needles, but go off I guess,” Sokka said, grabbing his laptop once again and returning back to his browsing. He had found a new set of inks that he wanted to try out and, since tattoos were now available again, he could get them.

Perhaps even use the new set on Zuko.

The thought did funny things to Sokka’s body.  
Speaking of Zuko, the other boy just bumped his shoulder with Sokka’s energetically, forcing him to look back at the raven-haired dork that looked more and more like the cat who knew he’d get the cream. “Yeah, but maybe I could be less terrified if I knew the person giving me the tattoo,” he said with ease, emphatically raising up his remaining eyebrow.  
“What a shame we’re in the middle of a pandora,” Sokka sighed, conceding his point. He loved his work, he got to do art on someone’s body and to experiment and he also had many regulars who trusted him, but really? During a pandemic, people wanted fresh ink on them?

At least his clients didn’t give themselves shitty stick ‘n poke in cramped dirty bathrooms.

“It’s not like you have a roommate tattoo artist, ya know?”  
Zuko scoffed at that, stretching over the couch and involuntarily flexing, showing Sokka the smooth expanses of his toned body. Toned body that practically begged to be covered in ink. “Pandora was the one to open the vase in Greek Mythology, we’re in a panoramic,” he said nonchalantly, keeping up the stupid game that they had begun at the beginning of lockdown to keep themselves entertained without murdering ~~or fucking each~~ other. “And, yeah, I know. It’s such a shame that I don’t have a brilliant, incredible, amazing, show stopping, spectacular, never the same, totally unique, completely not ever been done before, roommate who’s a wonderful artist who also happens to do tattoos.”  
Sokka blushed throughout Zuko’s little quoting, but quite thankfully the colour couldn’t be seen, Tui and La blessed him. “Alright, flatterer, what’s this beast gonna be like?”  
“…Haven’t gotten that far thinking.” There was typical Zuko: who world-built to the last detail before writing anything but who also had no idea what his character’s name were, most of the time; who knew every single tea blend and possible combination yet could never remember which he liked most; who knew all the words to Taylor Swift’s songs but had no idea which album the songs were from most of the time.

And on the other hand, was Sokka: with his dozens of daily lists, least he forgot anything; that knew all the elements in the periodic table because he had learnt them out of spite and still remembered them all; who had never forgotten a name or face or date or anything minor that happened to him in his entire life.

They were perfect for each other.

“I may have a few ideas,” he admitted sheepishly, mumbling embarrassed. He said he had some, a small amount, when in reality he had pages and pages filled with drawings of Zuko’s body in various poses, some fully tattooed to give the pretence that he was working and not ogling his best friend and roommate constantly.

Zuko’s face broke into a wide, blinding smile, that made Sokka’s heart constrict. How could someone so beautiful even be friends with someone like him, that left dirty laundry around their apartment and dirty dishes in the sink? “Take me, I’m yours,” he said, launching himself in Sokka’s lap and pretending to swoon like a Regency Era lady, barely avoiding collision with his laptop.

It had been weird at first, to see someone as closed off and private slowly get out of his shell and become affectionate, caring and loud as fuck, but Sokka had fallen in love with both versions of the man and there was nothing that could’ve made him change his mind now.  
“Flirt,” he commented, hoping that Zuko couldn’t feel the way his heart was beating faster than a race car in the Indianapolis circuit.  
“I may be a flirt,” he proudly said, slipping into his customer voice that he used whenever he had to man the register at the tea house, “but I love you!”

Sokka couldn’t help but laugh at the utter ridiculousness of his best friend’s antics. He placed a hand over his head, ruffling his hair as he seated more comfortably with him in between his legs, passing the laptop over the other boys’ torso and leaving it there on his chest as he kept on looking at inks, trying to get his body back in control.  
“Sure you do buddy. Now, about that new bad boy beast you want…”  
  


**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading!  
> please don't forget to leave a kudo and comment!  
> Thank you again JayD for the wonderful prompt, and thank you to all the mods of the server for getting this beautiful exchange going, you guys are the best!  
> till ext time,  
> Jo


End file.
